The Clawed Queen
by fakeituntilyoumakeit
Summary: AU: In which Tywin Lannister marries Olenna Redwyne.
1. Olenna I

**AU: Tywin Lannister weds Olenna Redwyne.**

_Chapter One: Olenna Redwyne_

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When you are born Olenna Redwyne, things are seldom boring or uneventful.

Living in the arbour has provided her with an unparalleled knowledge of knowledge of ports across the narrow sea. She enjoys sharp-witted conversations with two captains from Volantis most of all, whom are fond enough of her to always have a generous amount of figs ready for her, free of charge. Growing up without a mother, and lacking a proper Septa – Septa Alonne was too ancient to pose a real challenge – allowed her to grow up as she pleased. Her philistine brother had occasionally attempted to rule over her, believing it his right as the next _Lord Redwyne_. She didn't need a sword to silence him, her words were stinging enough.

"Why should men hold all the power? Men are quick-tempered, slow of mind, and utterly ruled by what's between their legs. Women are better suited to rule," she rants to Sarra, while the maid was brushing out her hair. Her younger brother Desmond was handsome, charming and ultimately ruled by his cock, but most importantly had been found in bed once again with a maiden, but this time she was of noble birth.

–

Olenna barges into her little brother's room as she had for the past twenty years, intent on finding where Bethany was hiding. Her six-year-old sister was once again hiding from Septa Alonne, and the ancient windbag had taken to toddling after her wherever she went, demanding to know where Bethany was as if she had her hidden under her skirts.

After searching Bethany's chambers, her own chambers, the gardens, the library and her mother's chambers, she marches into Desmond's as a last resort. She reaches the middle without the couple in bed noticing, but soon shrieks are filling the room, and Desmond`s face is as red as an apple, and the girls tits bounce as she frantically reaches for the crumpled mess of blankets on the floor, exposing more than Olenna would like to see.

She considers reprimanding her brother, but leaves that for Lyonel, the goon always did love to doll out 'lectures' to his younger siblings.

"Brother," she laughed, "I was only searching for Beth. Seeing as she's not here, however, I'll leave you to your ... _entertainment_."

"Because men are strong and capable my lady," Sarra explained. "Men are the stronger sex."

Olenna struggles to reign in her tongue, reminding herself that Sarra is only one-and-ten, still full of romantic ideals and songs about pretty maidens and dashing knights and instead replies, "The only things men are good at is drinking, swatting at each other with swords and whoring. Look at Dorne! Ruled by a woman, and cities have not collapsed, the gods have not smited anyone thus far." Sarra is quieted by her words, as she usually does, and Olenna contents herself with silence, imagining her future in which _she_ will rule her household, not some husbands who prefers to fuck her at night, and rule her by day.

Life goes on in the Arbour, and it is four weeks after the wedding of Lyonel and his brand new wife, Marsella Crane when a raven all the way from the Westerlands is passed along from Maester Dustyn to her father.

Olenna was at that time, reading from a book in Dornish history to her sister, about Nymeria the Warrior Queen, and all the ruling Princesses. Unfortunately, they were kept company by her newest sister, Marsella who was mercifully quiet as she wrote. Her blundering brother was out trotting around on his horse through the woods, content with archery and Arbour gold while he shunned his marriage bed. Of course, her good sister, the mousey yet spiteful Crane girl, did not mourn the loss of her husband's attentions but contented herself to writing to her siblings in Red Lake.

Weeks earlier, Olenna had learned of an old lover, a squire from the Riverlands in their service. Her brother may have been a foolish, daft drunkard but he was still her brother. So the Riverlands boy sets sail on a ship to Pentos, employed under one of her Volantene trading friends without a thought to his earlier love, and Marsella refuses to leave her chambers for five days – until one afternoon Olenna decided to pay her good sister a visit. That very evening, Marsella Redwyne arrived thirty-five minutes early for supper.

The day her betrothal came to be was not a particularly unusual day, Olenna would muse later in life. It began like any other day.

Her lord father had not emerged from his study all day, which still was not unusual. Since her lady mother's death from the pox, he has spent more and more of his time is isolation. She is glad for the company of her maids, pale Sarra, the sweetest and most frustrating of the two, and dark Alyx whom served her since her ninth name day, and who shared her bed since her flowering at the age of three-and-ten. She was enjoying their company, listening to a bumbling bard whom blushed under the sultry attentions of Alyx, when a squire arrived informing her that her lord father requested her immediate presence.

Escorted by the squire, she arrives in her father's study, and she is greeted by such a prideful, lusting smile that it makes even someone as hardy as herself, want to turn and run.

"Ah, thank you Olyvar," her father remarked when he hears her entrance. He takes a moment to really look at his daughter. A small, petite young woman fully blossomed at the age of nine-and-ten. Looking at her now, even though she had the traditional Redwyne looks (long dark hair and darker eyes) she bore a bitter resemblance to his lat wife. He had received many proposals from other lords across the seven Kingdoms, but these houses were of lesser standing than his, whom had proudly held the Tyrell's confidence for generations. Though yesterday, he had received an unexpected, but not unwelcome offer from a Lord of a higher family than the Redwyne's, and he was nothing if not an ambitious man.

"How are you Olenna? Well, I hope?" He questions to put her at ease, but it does the opposite. Two pairs of dark eyes stare warily at each other, both measuring the other.

"I am well enough." Is all his eldest daughter replies, and he accepts it gratefully.

"Yes, good, good. But I confess the reason I've summoned –"He pauses at the look on her face – "requested your presence is because I have accepted a worthy offer for your hand in marriage."

Olenna stews over this information, lingering on the fact that her father is not telling her of the offer, but informing her that like it or not, she _will_ be wed.

"In which keep shall I be imprisoned, father?" Her father frowns, displeased with her attitude but unwilling to pick a fight with his ferocious daughter.

"You will dwell in the greatest keep of all, save the Red Keep and the Arbour. Casterly Rock! You will be Lady Lannister, when you wed the eldest son of Lord Tytos Lannister." Her father is so pleased, so giddy, that she swears he could hop from foot to foot with glee.

Olenna is not surprised by this, nor is she pleased. Tytos Lannister is often dubbed 'the toothless lion' by those around him, even those within his own court. She's only met seen the Lannisters a handful of times, and remembers two or three boys, and a ghastly girl. She estimates the oldest son is at least a few years her junior, if not more.

She bids her father a goodnight, and retires into the comfort and pleasure of Alyx's embrace. She cannot fathom how the realm views something as sensual, as pleasurable as touching another woman's body as immoral.

She arrives back to her room, dismissing Sarra. The sunny girl bids her a goodnight with an air of innocence, but Alyx knows better. The Pentoshi woman sees the lust in her eyes, the desperation in her touches when she near tears off Alyx's gown.

Alyx places open-mouthed kisses to her breast, her quick tongue flicking out to trace her nipple, she moans and arches into her. Her hands slides down between them and soon Olenna is writhing and moaning – forgetting all about the Lannister son with his golden hair and golden coins, all of which are soon to be _hers_ - as Alyx rubs her furiously, twisting her nipples harshly, kissing her with all the violence of a summer storm. When Olenna peaks, it's sudden and overwhelming, gushing and arching off the bed until she's near bent in two.

She soon rolls them over, moving over her lover to straddle her, grinding against the older woman until she pants and trembles. Olenna has never liked to love softly, but knows Alyx enjoys fleeting moments of tenderness. Tracing down her long neck with her tongue, Olenna wastes no time in inserting three digits into Alyx, curling them as she knows her lady enjoys. Alyx has no need of her maidenhead, which she surrendered to her lady. Moving her fingers deliciously quick, she sucks a dark nipple into her mouth, and sucks greedily like a babe. When Alyx begins to tighten around her, inner muscles fluttering and beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, Olenna stops. A moan of protest follows and cuts off as Olenna's mouth travels down the valley between her breasts, over a firm stomach, nosing through thick black curls until she arrives at her destination. Alyx is so far gone; it takes only a dozen flicks of her tongue against her nub to make her come.

When it is over, and Olenna settles into the embrace of her familiar lover, she realizes that soon she will be leaving for the Westerlands – without Alyx and Sarra, without Desmond and Bethany and Doras, the motherly cook or grumpy, ancient Maester Dustyn, who's looked after her as long as she can remember. She'll even miss her father and her brother, though she loves them not near as much as she loves the rest.

Olenna suddenly feels very much alone.

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**Sorry for any mistakes, I am currently without a beta. If your interested, give me a shout! Otherwise, let me know what you thought, and if it is worth continuing.**


	2. Tywin I

**Au: Tywin marries Olenna.**

**AN: Shorter than usual, but more to come.**

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The icy winds from the north seem to have no effect on the oldest Lannister boy as he stands dutifully beside his siblings, waiting for his bride and her family to arrive. Tygett stands to his left, smug in the knowledge that this marriage is a thorn in his elder brother's side. Gerion is on his other side whispering to their sister, wanting to know everything in Genna's limited knowledge of Olenna Redwyne. His sister has only met the girl twice, and all she can recall is dark hair and a sharp tongue. This troubles Tywin, but a Lannister never cowers from a challenge, and if taming his new bride is something he need do he will not falter. A Lannister is above all, perfect, and he will not be scorned as his father is.

His father was leaning heavily on a cane, cradled in the bony arms of his mistress, an ugly wench decked in finery that surpassed everyone there. The mere sight of her angered Tywin beyond words, enough that his fingers itched to strike her but he calmed his temper.

Anger unchecked is dangerous anger, foolish anger and Lannister`s do not act the fool.

At five-and-ten, Tywin supposes he ought to be grateful that he's been given a child, a useless like bird without a shred of knowledge. The Redwyne girl is elder than him by four years. He knows little of his bride other than what he's managed to gain from the squires at Casterly Rock. She's regarded as a sharp-tongued beauty, small and was once almost betrothed to Prince Aerys Targaryen.

His thoughts are cut short by a shout as his younger, excitable brother spots the procession making its way up the mountain, through the gates and into the red keep. A man who is no doubt Lord Redwyne leaps off his horse; practically floating he seems so energetic. The door of the moderately sized wheelhouse behind him pops open, and a girl climbs in the graceless manner of a young child, no more than five or six years. Following her is a boy around Tygett's age who shushes his sister and takes her hand.

Unwanted nerves flutter in his stomach as a head of dark hair appears, and one of his fathers men rush forwards to help his future Lady out of the wheelhouse. Dark eyes narrow as he extends a hand, and she ignores it. "I am not so decrepit yet, boy, that I cannot manage to step out myself," she states, and as the words carry across the yard it encourages a sort of fire in Tywin, a dangerous fire. He finds himself reassessing his unwanted bride.

_Mayhap she will not be so easy to tame after all_

He sees her assess them each in term, her shrewd eyes lingering on him, looking over his crimson tunic, his black cloak slashed in cloth of gold and his high black boots. The approval is obvious in her eyes, and he feels a swell of pride. Those feelings are soon squashed as her eyes move over his father and settle on his whore. One dark brow arches ever so slightly, and then returns without pause. The girl is good at masking her emotions and keeping herself in check. Already she is exhibiting the characteristics he prides himself in and unwillingly he begins to see her.

Her long dark hair is pulled back, showing off a sweet face, full mouth and lightly browned skin. Her dress is sturdy fabric, a pale violet color without stains or other imperfections of any kind. Her sister is wearing a similar dress, but in a darker shade of lilac, her hair identical and Tywin recognizes sibling worship when he sees it.

The family approaches his father and he tenses, awaiting the coming embarrassment. "My Lord of Lannister," Lord Redwyne exclaims, grasping a frail hand and shaking it firmly. "The beauty of Casterly Rock has not been exaggerated. It is truly magnificent, is it not Olenna?" He turns to his eldest daughter.

_Olenna. So that is her name. _

_Olenna. _

She nods elegantly, "It is truly magnificent," turning her head slightly to watch the gulls fly over the walls.

"Thank you, m'lord," His father replies back completely unaware he has addressed a lesser lord as a commoner would, placing a hand on his whore's arm and lacing their fingers together. Shame floods through Tywin when he sees the slight quirk of Olenna's lips. "You and your family are most welcome here."

The earlier feelings of warmth have fled, replaced by cool anger. Not only at his father, but at this girl amused by his father's stupidity and his shame. The girl seems to notice the shift, as her dark eyes lock with his, boring into him. They aren't particularly pretty but the sharpness in them would take a lesser man off guard. He is not used to that resilience in a woman; here they are demure and respectful, defecting to their lords and brothers always. He is dimly aware of his brothers whispering as they are all ushered into Casterly Rock with their guests.

He catches one last glimpse of her before they retire to their chambers to rest before the welcoming feast later that night. Their eyes catch once more, an almost magnetic force between them. Their message is unmistakable.

_Game on._


	3. Olenna II

**Au: Tywin Lannister marries Olenna Redwyne. **

Chapter Three: Olenna Redwyne

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Olenna Redwyne is displeased. If this – sitting here with these insufferable twits chattering away in her ear about babes with blonde hair, and the pregnancy of the Targaryen Queen – is how her life will be as Lady of Casterly Rock, she will inevitably throw herself into the sea.

Her future lord husband seems displeased with her. This does not irritate or upset her, instead it amuses her. She can tell by the taut nature of his body as he sits next to her at the feast. She is aware of the stiffness of his mouth when he speaks to her, the sharpness of his eyes. He is a snake, she thinks, a pit viper waiting for the moment to strike. She realizes that he is seeking her weakness, an imperfection he can target and use to tame her, to control her.

Obviously this blonde fool does not know who he's dealing with.

It is amusing though, to bait him. The boy's nature seems against rising to such japes, answering her jabs with efficient, stoic sentences. His is unresponsive to her prodding and it annoys her. She is thankful he's not an oaf, at least. It wouldn't do to be saddled with someone like Lyonel for the rest of her life. He's not mad either, not like the Targaryens.

The Targaryens – she shudders involuntarily, unnoticed by the little flowers around her.

When she was nine years of age, before the marriage of Prince Aerys and his sister Princess Rhaella, there was talk of them marrying. Princess Rhaella seemed to favour some knight, and Aerys was handsome youth who seemed charming and well suited to the throne. When Olenna had been told, she'd immediately began plotting to ruin her so-called 'betrothal`. She spread nasty rumours about herself, rumours of ungainly behaviour, of unseemly warts and unpleasant smells. She had a royal painter depict a particularly unseemly girl as her and show it to the Prince. In the end, it was all for naught. Thanks to some soothsayer, or witch, or whatever Jenny of Oldstones was, the two siblings were wedded. The rumours were quickly dispelled by her father, who took every opportunity to show off his beautiful daughter and garner the attention of suitors. She had received a number of offers but her father seemed to enjoy turning them down. It seemed to get the old man's blood racing to turn down proposals, puffing him up like he was Aegon the Conqueror, sitting astride his dragon and controlling all of Westeros.

Of all the great houses, there were definitely worse. She could be in the north, freezing to death with the lot of the bearded, grim family. She could be in Kings landing with the dragons, or down in Dorne under the fiery sun, awaiting Prince Doran to come of age so they could wed.

It could have been off to the dodgy claimed Highgarden, among the Tyrells and the suffocating smell of roses. She had been to the castle once or twice, charming enough, but so filled with roses she felt as if they were suffocating her. Not to mention that Luthor Tyrell was the image of Lyonel – stupid, slow, and infuriatingly attractive.

This Tywin Lannister though, she would admit it was a smart match. They'd have handsome children, she supposed. Fair like their father or dark like her. She hoped her husband would grow taller than her, though if he remained shorter it would no doubt infuriate the proud little twit. She would have access to the funds of the Westerlands, and there were less beautiful places to be stuck, Dragonstone for example, or Storms End. She looked out through the window. To one side stood Lannisport, glittering and gorgeous, the water shining gold in the afternoon sun. To the right were the outskirts of the town below Casterly Rock, and the lush green hills beyond that, shadowed here and there by the odd wisp of cloud. She is especially glad to be by the sea, after spending all her life near in the Arbour it would have been difficult to say goodbye to the sea. The castle itself is made of smooth stone, built partly into the mountain and open and airy, smelling of the seas breeze. The cries of galls were constantly audible and everyone here seemed mostly obedient, if not distrustful of her and her family.

The Lannister family themselves were not so beautiful as their land, or their castle. Tywins two brothers resembled him very much, both close in age and obviously very aware of the shadow they lived in. Though while one seemed to resent it, the younger seemed to accept it, and only chafed occasionally. His sister was another matter entirely. She'd been told earlier that she was unfortunately betrothed to a second son of Walder Frey, who was on his second wife.

This odd match only furthered her opinion of his father. He seemed unimpressive, meek and mild. His title as 'the toothless lion' seemed quite correct. Nothing like a lion of Lannister should be, and nothing like Tywin was. The woman who seemed like a fifth limb of his was obviously his whore, and she could tell right away that she was definitely not Tywin's mother, nor was she lady of the Rock. She was also low-born, that much was plain from her features. She is constantly decked in such finery it would have put the King and Queen to shame, dressed in clothes Olenna had no doubt had once belonged to Tytos' Lannister`s late wife.

She was drawn from her thoughts by her sister climbing into her lap. Beth smiled and leaned back against her abdamon, tracing the stitching on her dolls dress clumsily with her chubby, infant hands. With a frown, she realized she`d never given Bethany those new dresses she'd meant to. She'd specially bought them from a trader from Qarth, where the dolls were painted to such finery they looked like living babes. They were still in her trunks at home, but it was no matter. When they went back home, she'd receive them, Sarra and Alyx would –

The names hit her like a cross bolt to the chest.

She craves the company of her two closest companions fiercely, for the easy talks with Sarra and the secret touches of Alyx. She yearns to wrap Alyx in her arms, and run her fingers across her cheek.

**No, **she scolds herself**. This is home now.**

**Gods.**

**This is my home now. **She doesn't think she's ever had a more terrifying realization.


	4. Tywin II

**AU: Tywin Lannister marries Olenna Redwyne.**

Chapter Four: Tywin Lannister

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As they sit indoors one rainy afternoon after the Redwyne's arrive and his siblings take the oppurtunity to weigh in their opinions on the girl. Gerion rushes over from his toy horses to sit in his sisters lap, and she affectionately strokes his hair.

The sight stirs an uncomfortably familiar image of his mother, and Tygett as a boy, crying to her over a scraped knee, or how his older brother had bested him at sport yet again. It was not long after these memories that his mother died, bringing his last brother into this world.

"She's pretty!" Gerion shouts with seven-year old enthusiasm. "Her smile is pretty, her hair is pretty, and her voice is pretty. And her sister! Beth is pretty too!"

**If you are so fond of her sister, why not marry them then**, Tywin thinks unkindly. **A third son for the daughter of a minor grape lord. **

He knows he is being unkind, but he cannot help but wonder what his father is thinking, marrying him to the daughter of an unimportant lord. He should have wed Alysanne Stark, or Ranella Tully, or maybe one of his cousins, Cyrella, or Joanna, or even someone like Alynne Westerling – if the girl was going to be of lower birth, at least let her be from the Westerlands. Unless a life's supply of wine appealed to his father, Tywin was blind to the perks of such a match.

"Pretty! Did you see those teets!" Tygett has just reached the age where a girl's bosom is more important than anything else. "Smaller than Genna's –'' he looks at his sister mischievously, "But then everyone`s are smaller than yours, Gen."

He looks to his sister, the only sibling whose opinion is of any value to him. "And you, sister. What is your opinion of the Redwyne girl."

"Olenna, Tywin, you must call her by her name," his sister scolds absently, forever trying to mother him, forgetting that he truly remembers their real mother. "She seems comely enough, I suppose. Well mannered and gracious when needs be, I'm sure. She also has a wicked tongue, which will keep you well-amused and frustrated."

This sparks his interest. "A wicked tongue, sister?"

Genna regards him strangely, "Have you not spoken to her?" A sort of shame floods him unwillingly. It must show on his face because his sister eyes him knowingly. "You must. It`s only proper, and it would do you both well to have some form of contact before your thrown in bed, naked as your first nameday on the night of your wedding."

"I`ll speak to Olenna tomorrow."


	5. Olenna III

**AU: Tywin Lannister marries Olenna Redwyne.**

Chapter Five: Olenna Redwyne

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_The boy will do, _she thinks, as she watches him silently control his siblings at the dinner table. The Great Lords of the Westerlands assemble at Casterly Rock, all awaiting eagerly to see their Lord's son married (as well as chuckle at his whore and drink the girl's families wine) Large shipments are brought up from the Arbour, larger than she can ever remember, and she scowls. There is nothing worse than a drunken man, but as she watches Tywin she thanks the gods he does not seem to over indulge in drink.

Everyone except him seems to be enjoying themselves at the feast. Their siblings are scattered around them. Bethany is beside Gerion, a boy of seven, telling him of the colored silk sails she'd seen at the bay once. Tygett is sitting sullenly, staring into his cup of water - Tywin had not allowed him any wine - and seemed to be cursing his ten year old fate. His missing brother Kevan, is set to arrive tomorrow from Ashemark, where he'd been serving as Lord Lorent Marbrand's squire. His nine year old sister Genna sat back in her chair, her long hair hanging over the jewelled collar, and loudly laughed at something Desmond says to her. Tywin glances disapprovingly at her, but she is not cowed by him. Olenna decides to take a more active interest in her soon-to-be-sister, always seeking the company of strong women such as her. Her newly appointed maids, plain Rhea, sweet Rylene and obnoxious Leyla, amuse her for the moment but soon she will need something more.

She is drawn from her wanderings as Tywin's gaze burns her, and she realizes she's been staring at him throughout her musings. Her father watches, smiling smugly to himself, clearly congratulating himself on how he'd managed to make his daughter the future Lady Lannister, mistress of one of the greatest keeps and richest lands in the Seven Kingdoms. She keeps his gaze as he steadies a hand over his cup, declining more wine and dismissing the blushing serving girl.

In fact, she thinks, Tywin does not seem to over indulge in anything, unlike his poor excuse of a father, who has retired long ago, stumbling and drunken to his whores tower.

He eats his share, yet he does not feast on everything within his reach. He has a cup of wine, but does not drink excessively as her brother often has. His clothing is rich, and impeccable but not ostentatious, and he is attractive without being beautiful.

Olenna has come to realize that handsome, rich, impeccably polite and most importantly clever young lords are in short supply. She prayed as a girl not to be matched with someone cruel, or with a fool.

(She will not learn until later that Tywin Lannister is one of the two)

He seems cold with her, his pale eyes glacial and his mouth sloped down permanently, his countenance fierce and she suddenly hopes that their sons will inherit their father's eyes – cold, fierce and unyielding – so as to intimidate those around them with one glance.

She winks when he catches her eye, once more, something more curious than cold in his eyes.


	6. Tywin III

**Au: Tywin Lannister marries Olenna Redwyne**

Chapter Six: Tywin Lannister

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He finds her on the cliffs, looking down over the edge as if she's contemplating jumping. Tywin doubts it; Olenna hardly seems the type to jump to her death. She doesn't seem to notice him, or if she does she is doing a good job at pretending otherwise. Her long hair streams around her in dark waves, twisting in the cold sea breeze.

"I'm glad to be here," She says because of course she's known he's here all along, only because these past few days she seems to have developed a sixth sense when it comes to him. "By the sea." She clarifies, looking over her shoulder at him with those infuriating dark eyes.

Tywin is unsure of what to say and unwilling to embarrass himself so he remains quiet.

"It could have been worse, I suppose. I could be marrying that Tyrell oaf, the one who trips over his own feet and gets lost in the gardens. Or I could be marrying that dour looking Stark, the one who never smiles. I could be marrying a Dornishmen, though they're famed as much for their love-making as for their dalliances, so perhaps not. I could be marrying one of my cousins, as I've heard you might have done. I could've married Prince Aerys, but they say every Targaryen has a touch of madness in them. Or a Baratheon, a stag permanently in rut," Now she is fully facing him, and he starts when he realizes her pale lilac dress is twining around her slim body, outlining the curves and dips of her body, and his collar suddenly feels a bit tight. He makes no move to fix it, his self-control battling with lust and pushing it down. "Instead I am here at Casterly Rock, about to be married to a little lion cub, who has not fully grown into his mane."

A calm sense of anger seeps into him, racing through his veins like white-hot blood. A raised eyebrow regards this, but the fury in his eyes seems to please her. The fury in his voice gives her pause"I could have married that stout little Arryn girl, or one of my bannerman's daughter, or one of my cousins. Instead I am marrying you, an unknown girl from the Reach, the daughter of a minor lord, sitting out here in a shift, with no shoes and unkempt hair, insulting her future Lord husband." When she remains silent, he pushes on. "When my father and his whore are dead, none of my family will ever shame the Lannister name again, so help me Gods."

The girl's expression is calm for a moment, before her lips twist upwards nastily.

Tywin takes no heed of this and finishes his warning, "If you test me, you will fail."

Her smile remains, but it is not as cruel. She walks towards him, sweeping her eyes over him as if truly seeing him for the first time. Tywin realizes suddenly that this is a test, that all of it was a test - the avoidance, the appearance, the unacceptable behaviour. This wench was testing him, to see how he would react to her. In all fairness to her, she did not know him at all before coming here. She most likely expected to find someone akin to his father – which explained the calculating way with which she appraised him – and instead found someone completely his opposite. The sense of approval swells something unidentified within his heart and he ignores it in hopes it will go away.

"Well, little lion, I believe I may come to enjoy you after all," She reaches towards him and links their arms together, falling into step beside him as they head back towards the castle.

"We shall be the fiercest of them all – and anyone who test **us** will hear us roar," She whispers in his ear, warm breath ghosting over his cheek, and a smile graces his lips.

They are silent for the rest of the walk, but they find no words are needed – they have already been said.

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**Next Chapter: The wedding**


End file.
